Memories and Ghosts
by Jukori
Summary: After Steve found Bucky and things were sorted out, he finally brought him home to the Avengers Tower and life goes on. This FanFiction centers mostly around Bucky Barnes, recovering his old memories and the new ones he is about to make with this strange group of superheroes (no OC's)
1. Now - Welcome home

"What's this?" Bucky asked in his usual monotone voice.

"It's a present, of course," Tony replied, grinning from ear to ear, while shoving a small packet into the assassins hands. In contrast to Barnes he could barely contain his excitement.

"For you," Steve added a little uneasy as if he wasn't sure that this was actually a good idea. He smiled nonetheless.

"From all of us," Natasha cut in.

"To welcome you, friend," Thor said into the uncomfortable silence which had followed, without batting an eye. Who needs a hammer that holds the strength of the universe when you have the ability to conquer awkwardness with the power of coherent speech?

"We hope you like it," came it calmly from Bruce.

For a moment, Bucky seemed confused, uncertain of what to do - of what was expected from him.

"...Thanks," he tested the word in his mouth. It felt foreign. Most of them did.

He looked at Steve for confirmation and got a small encouraging nod in return.

"Open it!" Clint laughed good-natured and patted him friendly on the back. Bucky flinched involuntary at the touch, but stood his ground. Progress.

"If you want to," Steve softened the order, even if it wasn't intended to be one in the first place. Bucky obeyed anyway. He removed systematically the teddy-bear gift wrap with a calculated precision he always used these days and revealed a book. It was covert in even more bears. A photo album the Asset identified the object.

"I admit it's a little old-fashioned. I was going for a holographic projector instead, but Steve insisted so..."

Bucky ignored Tony's chatter and flipped the book carefully open. Lost in his mind he let his fingers gently wander over the empty, white pages.

"We thought it would be nice, ahem to make some memories of your own. You know taking pictures and stuff...," Tony rambled on, getting a bit nervous from Bucky's reaction, or rather lack of it.

Bucky didn't reply and tension started to grow as the silence stretched on.

"Good lord, Stark would you stop this! Seriously how old are you? Eight?" Natasha elbowed the genius/ billionaire/ playboy/ philanthropist/ and most of all man-child into his side and finally stopped him from swinging up and down on his heels. Tony was never good at dealing with a) silence and b) waiting. And in his defense he had coffee. Lots and lots of coffee. Coffee was good. Coffee was safe.

"Oi!" said genius exclaimed pseudo scandalized. "Like the title, though," he winked.

Natasha rolled her eyes in annoyance and just like that the little group was back to normal, with all their bickering and friendly teasing.

"Thanks", Bucky said again with more confidence this time.

Steve smiled and let alone therefore the team effort was worth it. Mission accomplished.

.

.

.

They hadn't actually said 'welcome home', that would have been a little too much, but to Steve it damn well felt like it anyway. Still he wasn't sure that this was a good idea. It remained to be seen.

* * *

**A/N:**

awwww it feels good to finally be able to write something, even if it's embarrassingly short. I have the worst writers block ever. So here is my new obsession: Captain America and the Avengers

I hope you like it so far. It has been a long time since I wrote something and english isn't my native language ;)

All chapters with** NOW** in the title are after Steve found WinterSoldier!Bucky and all chapters with **THEN** in the title are pre-WinterSoldier!Bucky

Anyhow, if you find any mistakes, something that doesn't make sense, sounds weird or if you have some questions or plot ideas please let me know! I want to improve my writing and I am open for any help I can get ;)

**Reviews are awesome! And so are you!**


	2. Now - ACT

This was Sam's fault, Bucky decided. He had started this, this … whatever this was.

Steve was reading the book again and Bucky hated it. More specific: he hated the frown on Steve's face that always accompanied him once he was absorbing the content of the damn thing. It made him feel like he failed Steve in all ways possible. He was sure he had.

Though, Bucky would never ask him to quit reading, he had other ways to stop him. He discovered that when he just stared long enough at Steve he would eventually put the damn book down and start a one-sided conversation, while wearing one of those ugly forced smiles. Bucky hated those too. So it was kind of a bittersweet victory, but he took what he could get without complaining.

Bucky also never asked why Steve was reading it. This he definitely knew. It was his fault. It was because Bucky refused therapy. But he really didn't want anybody looking into his head, not even a shrink. God, he didn't even want to know what was inside. So Bucky kept quiet and hid behind his mask of indifference, watching Steve being miserable and at the same time pretending to be not. He was such a liar, but then again so was Steve.

Besides, there were already plenty of people out there who had messed with his mind, no need for more, thanks. The only exception was Sam. But Sam didn't really count, cause he was family first.

He remembered Sam pulling a face when Steve had wanted the book, telling him that it didn't work like this and almost declining the request. Bucky wished he had. But ultimately Sam gave in. Steve had always been a stubborn little shit.

Be careful, Sam had warned him while handing it over.

And now Steve was reading day and night in this stupid self-help book about acceptance and commitment, with fancy words like 'post traumatic stress disorder' and 'dissociative symptoms' and other stuff Bucky couldn't get his head around. Occasionally Steve even made little notes on the side or marked the passages which he deemed important enough. It drove Bucky insane. Of course, Steve had asked him if he wanted to see it too, but Bucky had shaken his head vehemently at the offer and quite literally fled the room. He had never touched the damn thing once. It scared him, made him feel small and weak, somehow incomplete and horribly vulnerable. Bucky hated it.

It was strange to have all those emotions. Sam called it progress.


	3. Now - Manners matter

Tony glanced at his Rolex and sighed in annoyance. Steve was doing his best impression of a statue for solid 15 minutes by now - JARVIS had checked. He was getting real good at it, Barnes must have taught him, Tony thought absently. But then again Rogers turned-friend-turned-enemy turned- friend wasn't much of a talker these days. Honestly he wasn't much of anything, and if it weren't for all the story's his dad had told him about the famous 'Howling Commando' he wouldn't have believed Steve a single word about who this man was supposed to be. However this was then and now was now.

It seemed Americas Icon number one was currently occupied with his favorite past-time activity aka. silently staring a hole at 'Bucky' Barnes head, while making this lost longing puppy-dog eyes. A hobby that was utterly disturbing in Tony's opinion, last but not least cause it was boring as hell. Barnes never did anything. If he at least would once in a while go berserk, that would be interesting, but no, the frozen and brainwashed pride of Hydra was gentle as a lamb. Yeah, gentle as a lamb, but at the same time scary as fuck.

Said man was placed in front of the TV in the living room. The remote rested peacefully in his lap and there was also an empty plate and a glass on the table next to him. He almost seemed normal. Almost. The fact that his gaze was actually focused somewhere around the left corner above the TV-screen and his blank expression were still a dead giveaway. The situation was a bit of a

comedy act in itself: Tony staring at Steve. Steve staring at Barnes. Barnes staring at the wall. He wondered where the wall would stare if it had eyes.

But back to the task at hand. Steve still hasn't moved from his spot by the kitchen counter, which wasn't the problem in general. The problem was that he was also blocking successfully all things on it, which included the toaster of doom and more importantly the coffee maker. It drove Tony nuts. For once he should have listened to Pepper, and not mess with the one in his laboratory, but he was curious

and his fingers had itched to take it apart, so he just did. That's how Tony worked, and he liked it. Right now, though, Tony didn't need to work, he needed to function - two different things. One implied survival and the other a stress ulcer.

The billionaire started his third, yeah, you heard right, fucking third attempt to get the attention of the all-mighty Captain America. You know the guy that could hear the drop of a needle next door. He cleared his throat with a not so subtle cough and got, unsurprisingly, no reaction. Tony doubt even an armada of giant mutated Nazi killer goldfish would.

Contrary to the public belief Tony wasn't a total ignorant bastard. Of course he knew that Steve wasn't intentional messing with him, well not on a big scale anyway. He was not blind either. Cap had been off his game ever since Barnes returned. The ghosts of the past had haunted both of them. And truly in any other given situation Tony would at least try to be a little more supportive and understanding, but Jeez every man had his limits, and he reached his. Before Tony could even so much as appreciate, let alone recognize, the heartbreaking tragedy that enrolled in front of him, he needed coffee. Badly. His first cup of brown gold in the morning -like really, really early morning- was not optional, it was vital. More precisely, it was a high priority problem that had to be addressed immediately, or gruesome things would follow. Gosh, super villains would be a lot more successful in their attempts for world domination if they just cut of the Avengers from coffee, it's a wonder no one figured it out yet.

Oh, screw it, Tony thought, subtlety was never his strong point anyhow. That's what Pepper was there for, as well as for patience, he added in an afterthought.

"Yo!" Tony raised his voice in a semi-shout. It harbored this kind of passive-aggressive annoyance only a truly desperate man could muster in the face of Captain America.

No reaction.

"Earth to 'Captain Small Ass'!"

Thankfully the nickname Sam had established worked to a certain degree and Steve finally took pity on Tony and acknowledged his existence. God bless Sam Wilson.

"Move it!", Tony continued his journey to the life preventing coffee maker.

With a slightly irritated look, as if Tony was the crazy one, Steve turned his head and raised an eyebrow. However, it didn't occur to him that his mighty and literally star spangled butt still blocked the way. Tony wanted nothing more than shout his frustration into the world. He would have, but then again coffee-deprivation.

To be fair, the Captain America boxer shorts that covered Steve's ass was in fact a gift from Tony himself. He was not entirely sure why exactly Steve was wearing them now, he never seemed interested in all the Captain America merchandise before, but who was Tony to complain? His eyes lingered a little longer than what would be deemed appropriate, but really who could blame him?

After all he was just human and Cap looked absolutely ridiculous in them.

"That's rude."

The sudden voice startled both heroes. Some might think you get used to people materializing out of thin air, but no, you actually don't. Tony was almost positive that he would rather die of a heart attack, than from a bullet. There were just way too many spies in his life to not to.

"Jesus! Somebody should put a bell on you," Tony said out of reflex, cause cocky remarks recovered always faster than brain activity.

After Tony survived the first shock of Bucky sneaking up on him and the second of him speaking, his mind decided to work again and he had time to ultimately progress Barnes words. There was a beat and then Tony asked "What?"

Okay, admittedly not the best work of Tony's brain, in his defense the conditions were not optimal.

"Calling someone names is rude," Bucky clarified with a frown on his face, as if he himself wasn't one hundred percent certain where that came from. His cold gaze was fixed on Tony. No need to say that it was downright terrifying and the 'don't call him that' hung heavy in the air.

Tony breathed out a small nervous laugh, to cover his own tension, while all people present tactfully ignored the full body twitch from the billionaire, as Bucky leaned past him and reached casual for a bottle of orange juice.

"I...uhm, Sorry?", Tony tried a little perplexed about the unexpected lesson in manners. Barnes seemed pleased by his reply, well he looked slightly less murderous than before, and nodded seriously.

In addition to Steve being around, Tony was sure that the only thing that had saved his life from a horrendous death was the right mixture of shock and self-preservation that had coaxed this particular answer out of his mouth - Thanks for nothing brain! Where were you when needed?

"What was that about?", Tony asked confused as Bucky went back to the living room, watching whatever it was the assassin - ex assassin Tony reminded himself on Steve's behalf- took an interest in. Probably Nickelodeon.

Steve smiled and just shook his head in silent amusement.


	4. Then - Manners matter mostly?

A steady stream of blood dripped slowly down his lips, accompanied by a familiar taste of metal in his mouth. He spat another pile of red liquid on the ground and thoughtlessly wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve, like he had done a million times before. Steve didn't kept count.

His head started to feel heavy in the thickening darkness. The faint light of the streets barely managed to illuminate the shady back alley. He usually ended up in them, one way or another. Bucky had even gone so far as calling it 'Steve's little kink' and he had to admit that the jerk got a point, though it was not like Steve was looking for trouble, but someone had to help.

Large hands pushed forcefully against his scrawny body, keeping him trapped between an old fence and some dented trash cans. His legs began to tremble dangerously under his own weight and he had to lean against a solid brick wall for support. The cold stone made his skin crawl uncomfortable and he felt every muscle burn in protest. To be honest, Steve was tired, tired of fighting. But more so he was tired of running. Never again he had sworn himself. He'd rather fight. He had to. After all, he was still standing and in the end that's what mattered.

A set of knuckles jolted him back to reality as it merciless buried it's way into Steve's stomach. The pain made him bend over, but he didn't went down, not yet, not ever. He refused to. Still on his feet he tried to defend himself as best as he could: Fists in the air, chin up and still fucking standing.

On instinct, Steve stumbled forward, trying desperately to land a punch of his own. A deep ugly laughter followed, belittling his fruitless attempts.

"What are you gonna do now?" Asked the owner of the knee that was currently occupied with bashing Steve's insides.

"No one's coming for you," the nasty voice continued while Steve was lifted off his feet.

"You wanna know why?" it hissed into his ear.

"Can't we just go back to the part where you hit me?" Steve replied, successfully managing to sound hopeful.

That earned him another punch in the face, before he was brutally smashed against the nearest wall. Blood ran down his neck and at some point Steve swore he could actually see stars spinning around him.

"Cause nobody gives a fuck about shit like you."

Steve didn't remember going down, but he must have. He could feel the dirt beneath his fingers. A shadow loomed over him, tall and final. And for a moment he thought that this was it. It wasn't. Instead there was now a boot on top of his chest and breathing became suddenly ridiculous difficult. His lungs were on fire.

He wanted to stand up, wanted to fight. He wanted to make the pain stop, but his treacherous body wouldn't let him- nothing new either.

Darkness was about to swallow him and the next thing he knew was that the crushing weight was lifted. He could hear Bucky's clear voice in the distance and with it the light came back.

"Didn't anybody taught you some manners? Name-calling is very rude," Bucky sing-songed, but despite his nonchalant tone something dangerous lingered behind his eyes. He must be really pissed, Steve assumed.

He watched in silence as Bucky effortless dodged an attack and countered swiftly with a well-placed kick into the thug's rear. After they exchanged a few more blows the guy seemed to had enough and took off.

Bucky made it look so easy. Steve never begrudged him that. The thing what bothered him was that they were supposed to be equals, but in such situations he was painfully reminded that they were not. Not in every aspect and that hurt.

"You're okay?" Bucky called from above.

Steve nodded and looked up just in time to see Bucky's cocky grin that never seemed to completely disappear. He briefly wondered how the world must see them. Two sides of the same coin or just some dumb kids from Brooklyn.

Once Bucky had told him that saving Steve's sorry ass came as natural as breathing, closely followed by worrying about said ass. Steve had asthma, breathing was anything but normal. So, so much for that. Bucky wasn't supposed to be his knight in a shining armor. Steve forbade it, cause he outright refused to be the damsel in distress. Nonetheless, Bucky always had his back and

this was good to know.

The brunet man sighted and shook his head pseudo-theatrical. "Seriously Steve, if you don't stop pulling those stunts people will think you like getting punched." He kept his words light, but the tremble in his voice still gave him away.

"Look, I couldn't care less what gets you going pal, just next time let me in on the fun okay?" He smiled cheeky at Steve and stretched his hand out to guide the smaller one up.

And with a pang it hit Steve again just how much he actually loved this stupid jerk, with his stupid smirk and all his stupid little ways of reminding him that he loved him too. Bucky was his sun, bright and beautiful and all his to keep. It was really terrifying how bad he had fallen for the bastard over the years. That was also nothing new.

"What?" Bucky asked confused as Steve didn't respond to his comment nor accepted his offer of help.

The blond looked at him with an intensity that made the other more than a bit twitchy.

"You're such a hypocrite," Steve finally announced, trying to repress a smile. "If I remember correctly, and I do, you called me 'lil' shit' this morning."

"That does not count. It's totally different," Bucky replied, like he had no care in the world, while withholding his own smile. He was curious where Steve was going with this.

"And how so?"

"All out of context," Bucky chirped and flashed him a shit eating grin. It was Steve's favorite, cause he knew exactly how it felt on his skin.

"Hmm," Steve absently licked over his mouth before he professionally fixed his expression from hungry predator to lovely angel.

"So does that also mean it didn't count when you called me 'God'?" He actually got the nerve to fucking pout.

"What? When did I- ," Bucky groaned at the involuntary pictures that flashed through his mind. Heat creeped up his neck and collarbone.

"Fuck."

"Exactly."

Steve was smirking up at him in a way that Bucky always kind of assumed was only reserved for burlesque dancers. A deep blush spread over his face, while he thought about this particular context. In it Steve was also on his knees. Red swollen lips wrapped around his -

"Ohhhh... ahhhhh God, God Steeve! Yeah!" Steve mimicked Bucky's words in mockery without breaking eye contact.

Bucky ears burned so hard by now he wondered why the top of his head wouldn't just simply blow off. How anybody could mistake Steve for an innocent, darling boy was far behind him.

"Oh, shut it punk!" He managed.

"No, you see, this is where you come in and make me-"

Bucky finally seemed to get the message and for the second time of the day Steve ended up pressed against a wall. But this time he couldn't be happier about it. Usually Bucky wasn't often up for this kind of affection in the open. Steve understood. It didn't mean he liked it.

There was a light breath ghosting over his face and then Bucky's lips were on him, all hot and demanding and always begging for more. It made Steve's body ache in excitement and his split lips stung in the most delicious ways. Through the layers of cloth he could feel Bucky's body heat radiating and his fingers itched for the warm flesh beneath.

"Shit," Bucky cursed, when they parted, all tousled hair and wide pupils.

"See? Hypocrite," Steve laughed in delight.

The shove in the ribs that followed was absolutely deserved in Bucky's opinion.

"Jerk"

"Punk"

.

.

.

Maybe they weren't equals yet, Steve thought absently as their shoulders bumped into each other on the way back home, but he was still standing and that meant they could walk the road together.


	5. Now - Trigger

"What the hell happened?" Tony yelled over chaos and deafening noise as he stepped into the gym.

"Triggers," Black Widow answered briefly, while avoiding the metal fist that was going to crush her skull. If those two were ever about to met her bikini debacle would be solved permanently.

"The fuck?"

.

.

.

It was her regular training session with James. At first they were doing well. Everything was normal until it wasn't anymore. One moment they were sparring and in the next all hell broke loose. Bucky's whole body had jerked, before he turned utterly quiet. Natasha was about to check on him, but suddenly he attacked. And not with his usual well controlled moves - he tended to hold back in those. Instead he went with the full force of the Winter Soldier against her.

She barely managed to dodge the rapid incoming blows and realized too late that he had driven her into a corner. Shit, this was bad. Already being exhaust from her training and without her weapons she was having a difficult time to keep up with the big guy. There was no room to escape as his metal hand closed merciless around her neck.

With the calm and emotionless expertise of a ruthless killer she quickly assessed the situation and managed to distract the Winter Soldier. A perfectly aimed kick into his balls did the trick. While the little stunt brought her enough time to catch her breath, it sadly was not enough to prevent the amnesiac assassin from grabbing her ankle and smashing her unceremoniously into the next wall. Her ears rang and she swore there were stars dancing around her head - and not the good kind.

The Winter Soldier was about to finish her when out of nowhere Captain America came to her aid. It turned out her ears weren't the only things ringing. Jarvis had thankfully activated the alarm and called for backup. So naturally Steve was the first one to arrive since both geriatric grandpas were practically attached to the hip.

Unfortunately all his attempts to make Barnes snap out of it fell on deaf ears. He wasn't listening to a single word that came out of Steve's mouth. Natasha doubted he could even if he wanted. His eyes were clouded and he seemed light-years away.

From their on the situation escalated quickly. Clint and Sam joined the party to help, but added just insult to injury. Cap's only option seemed to be restraining his best friend. Simply put they were screwed.

.

.

.

"What makes you say that?" Steve shouted from the other side of the gym.

"There is a pattern in his behavior: You come in, he attacks. You stay away, he won't follow,"

"So, probably none lethal then," Sam concluded as he watched Hawkeye getting thrown into a set of weights.

"None lethal my ass," Clint groaned in pain as he rubbed his sore neck.

"But why? Hydras best killing machine not killing? That doesn't make any sense."

"Maybe for practice," Natasha guessed.

Steve clenched his fist. "They fucking used him as training-device," he pressed out between tight lips.

In the new light of the events the Avengers kept their distance and it worked, the Asset stopped as well. He observed the small group with a carefully blank expression, not a killer but a predator.

"What now?"

"A trigger got him in a trigger will most likely get him out."

"Steve? What are you doing?" Sam asked as the other approached the master assassin once more.

"Bucky," Steve called out while he got slowly closer. "It's me. Steve, your Stevie."

They watched the Soldier turning automatically into a fighting stance. A graceful, deadly thing. As the blond man crossed a seemingly invisible line Barnes reacted instantly and engaged in combat again. He smashed his fist brutally into Steve's stomach and made him bend over in pain. But Steve wasn't backing down, he had a plan. He took one hit after another with his defence down to a minimum and his offence literally non-existing. It was hard to look at.

Enough was enough, Tony thought. There is 'yeah' and there is 'no' and this was definitely a no. Someone was gonna end up crying and as much as he enjoyed watching Rogers getting his ass handed, this needed to stop. "For the love of - Oh, come on! This is pointless. He can't-," Tony started, ready to jump in.

However Cap just hold his hand up and signaled them to stay out of this. He was grateful for their concerns and acknowledged their warnings, but didn't let it stop him. He got this. He'd fight for his friend no matter what. Even if it means not fighting at all. At least not physically.

"You know me."

A kick right beneath his ribs suggested otherwise.

"Bucky. You've known me your whole life. Your name is James Buchanan Barnes," he repeated the words that had brought him back before. With a little luck it would work a second time. "I'm not gonna fight you. You're my friend."

Another punch hit his face.

This was insane, Sam thought., "He's going to kill you man."

"Bucky please, this isn't you," Steve begged as he got up on his feet in all his stubborn, punk-ass glory. Blood dripped from his nose and mouth, but somehow there was still a strange aura of dignity surrounding him. They're eyes met for a split second and the Winter Soldier was forced to take a step back. The proud and determined look Steve gave him made his instincts scream 'danger'.

"Please," Steve tried again, but to the Asset it sounded suspiciously more like a 'Bring it on!'. There was no arrogance, just honesty and lots and lots of unjustified confidence.

A familiar thread tugged at the edge of his mind. The Soldier found it highly irritating. He couldn't stand it any longer and jumped in. With a swift move he knocked his opponent off balance, turned inward and slammed him over his shoulder head first into the ground, resulting in Steve lying on his back and Bucky sitting on his chest, pinning him down. Barnes readied himself to close in for the kill and deliver the final blow.

"Arghh...," Steve groaned. He felt dizzy. His head simply wouldn't stop spinning and his vision was all blurry. Everything was making less sense than it did a minute ago, which shouldn't have been possible considering how fucked up it was a minute ago. The sheer amount of effort it took to stay awake was utterly ridiculous in his opinion. He raised his gaze in search for something to focus, something constant ... solid ...secure... "Bucky." It was always Bucky for him.

Steve narrowed his brows in confusion. Something was wrong. Bucky looked scared and this could never be right, In a haze he lifted his hand to gently caress Bucky's cheek with his fingertips. He was warm beneath his touch. Steve smiled in relief. Thank goodness, not a dream than.

The careful brush of fingers against his jaw startled the Soldier. He jerked back and for the first time Bucky was really looking at him. Steve could see recognition behind the confusion. Maybe, he thought, they could have there happy end after all.

Suddenly Bucky went pale, all color left his face. Without a warning his body collapsed and Steve was buried under it's weight.

"Bucky? Hey Buck!"

He desperately tried to hold his friend upright, but the other didn't react. He rolled him over to the side and Bucky's body lay lifeless on the ground. At the image something snapped in Steve and he panicked.

"Bucky no!" he cried out, while shaking the unconscious assassin violently. He was beginning to hyperventilate.

"Steve calm down! He's just sleeping."

For a moment Steve looked as lost and confused as Barnes must feel most of the time.

"Bucky," he said in an empty voice. With shaky hands he reached out, stroking Bucky's tangled, brown hair, while his shoulders trembled uncontrollably. He crouched over the Ex-Assassin as if he could shield him from the rest of the world and at the same time looking for comfort himself.

Holy crap. Tony tried to get his head around what just happened. He totally underestimated Wilson. The man just shot the fucking Winter Soldier in the face, well actually he shot him with a tranquilizer in the neck, but still kudos.

"Uhm Cap, shouldn't we get you - I mean both of you - to the medical-wing and you know restrain him?"

Steve glared up.

In the universal gesture of peace Tony lifted his hands. "Or not. Just saying."

As they slowly took off Cap could hear the muffled whispers behind him.

"I can't believe that this was his plan."

"Not a good plan."

But honestly, what did they expect Bucky always made him a little stupid and sometimes a lot.

.

.

.

In the end they didn't use the restrainments, of course not, and Steve watched over his friend, sitting on his bedside. Absently he rubbed little circles over the others hand and wished they had never left Brooklyn.


	6. Now - Dark place

My mind is a dark place to wander. It's filled with lots an lots of broken fragments. They are sharp and cut deep.

In the beginning all I could see was your face. Nothing else but you. I was drawn to you like a moth to the light. I wanted to be with you, wanted to hold you and never let go. I didn't know why. All that was left of me was the instinct to get close. It was the only thing that kept me breathing. Your voice lured me in like a siren with the promise of home, even if I couldn't remember having one. You were safe - You made _me_ feel safe.

But things changed, my field of vision started to open. I could see my hands reaching out for you, cold, scarred and bloody. I was about to pull away, but ultimately I couldn't overcome my own selfishness. I wanted... I couldn't.

You said you didn't mind as long as I'm here, and I felt so relieved. You never flinched away from me. I remember you kissing my palm and gently pressing it against your cheek. Your lips were warm back then, they probably still are. Till the end of the line.

It's different now. I can see the blood-trails I am leaving behind. You told me you don't care. I do. I still want to be by your side so badly it pains me. But I am scared. I can't...

I can't hurt you! You don't know what these hands have done, through how many bodies they ripped, how much blood sticks on them. Not just the blood of strangers, but comrades, and friends, and family as well. There are pictures in my head. I killed them. I did this. It was me. This is my fault. Their faces are always with me, every single one of them, confused, terrified, angry, betrayed... I hear their screams and there is no escape, they torture my thoughts by day and poison my dreams at night. I am scared. It feels like I am falling apart, maybe I do, maybe I should.

I wanted to tell you, because it's important that you know. You needed to understand, but I couldn't find the words and pulled my dirty hands back, afraid to reach out for you again. A long shrieking howl of wind rushed past me and I was falling once more.

I close my eyes, trying to hide from the world, but the pictures wouldn't stop. More and more coming up from the depth of my mind. Their weight is pressing me down and I can't find my way back. Back to reality - to you. It's so dark around me and I am lost. I can't see the light.

"Stevie, what have I done?"

* * *

**A/N:**

*hides behind puppy's*

Here have some short angsty Bucky-thoughts, cause I am all alone on V-day and stuff. Don't worry though, I am gonna watch Deadpool later so I'll survive :)

Anyhow, THANK YOU SO MUCH for your reviews! You guys are awesome!

As always, if you find any mistakes, something that doesn't make sense, sounds weird or if you have some questions or plot ideas please let me know! I want to improve my writing and am open for any help I can get!

**Reviews are awesome! And so are you!**


	7. Now - A man and his mind

Bucky looked tired. Although his body biologically wasn't, you could see it in his eyes. And today it seemed like the weight of the decades had finally caught on.

He sat alone on a mint green couch in a small office. He had gone ninety-nine days now without saying a single word. In the first forty-five days Natasha had kept him company. But after day number forty-five Fury had told her that she was no help and she had left at his order off to other missions. It made Natasha sad to see Bucky come in each day with his lips pressed tight together and she always went down to help him up, hold the door open or telling him a joke accompanied by an occasional shoulder-bump. She watched patient over him, while he finished scribbling some notes into his journal. The journal was small, with wrinkled corners and a dull gray cover. It looked like the flag of permanent defeat.

Bucky was pale and marked with dark rings under his eyes. The shadows the trauma brought from years and years of abuse filled them almost completely. They spread down like cancer and his shoulder had the deep-angry scars from metal fighting against flesh. But none of these scars were fresh. They were as old as the white of a blank paper.

Everything about him was tense except his eyes. They had the same color as rain clouds and were lifeless and broken.

"Russia," Natasha said to him as they climbed the stairs from where the office was located. "I could go with you again. We've made some memories."

Bucky had taught her to speak up for herself and Natasha loved him.

He shook his head.

"Remember how you went silent for one-hundred-seven days and then you started to talk every day for the next three weeks."

Bucky nodded and his gaze got captured by a big S.H.I.E.L.D. symbol. Natasha noticed.

"Fury made me leave. I am an agent and I must obey my orders."

Another nod.

"He hasn't much faith."

Slightly Bucky tilted his head.

"But I do," she continued. "Can I get you a beer and then we'll head back to the tower?"

He shrugged and followed her. Together they sat and some of the agents made fun of him and he was not angry. Others, of the older agents, looked at him and were sad. But they did not show it and they spoke politely about new firearms and of what they had seen. The agents that came back from their recent debriefing already started to brag, filling the room with chatter and stories. The names were removed, the locations cut out and the details taken, but they always showed a hint of truth. Bucky could smell it. But the only thing that would reach him now was the faint scent of death and snow. When it vanished it left a warm and dry room behind.

"Russia," Natasha said.

Bucky smiled softly. He was holding his glass and thinking of many years ago.

"You want me to come with you tomorrow?" She asked.

He declined her offer with another movement of his head.

"I would like to. Maybe I could...," she stopped in mid-sentence and sighed into her drink. "I wonder how old I was when you first took me on a mission. I can remember screams and smoke and flames and the noise of the shooting. I can remember you throwing me behind a sofa where the foam was already ripped and the impact of bullets made the fiberfill dance and feeling the whole building shiver. The sound of you punching him like chopping a tree down and the sweet blood smell all over me. I remember everything from when we first went together."

Bucky looked at her with his paled, uncertain loving eyes. Carefully he reached out and put his hand over hers.

"May I come with you?" She tried again. "Or, I could just wait outside."

Bucky refused, however he seemed hesitant. There was a time when his hope and his confidence had been gone. But now they were freshening as when a breeze rises.

"Okay, at least let me drop you off at the office."

Finally he sighed in agreement.

A satisfied smile graced her face. With a silent 'thanks' he ruffled her hair in a gesture of affection. He knew he had attained humility and he knew it was not disgraceful and it carried no loss of true pride.


End file.
